


nothing else could matter, 'cause you know where i belong

by oceanvirus



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s03e09 The Swedes, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Libraries, Missing Scene, One Shot, Oneshot, SO MUCH FLUFF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oceanvirus/pseuds/oceanvirus
Summary: Objectively, six months isn’t that much time; to Amy, it somehow feels both short and long simultaneously. Short in the sense that she still gets butterflies when he glances up from across their desks and the corners of his mouth pull up into the small, knowing smile he’s reserved for her eyes only; long in the sense that every touch, every shared look and teasing comment and inside joke feels so achingly familiar, causing a comforting warmth to blossom in her chest like she’s never experienced before she met him.Or: Jake follows through with Rosa's six-month anniversary suggestion.





	nothing else could matter, 'cause you know where i belong

**Author's Note:**

> s/o to erica @startofamoment for letting me yell about this and giving me some guidance and sarah @scullysthumbtacks for helping me work out some deets ily guys
> 
> this is a very strong contender for the fluffiest thing in my docs lmao have fun

When Amy Santiago wakes up on a Saturday morning, she doesn’t think her day will be anything out of the ordinary. Saturdays are hers and Jake’s shared day off, and ever since they started dating, Saturdays were devoted to pancakes and coffee, sleeping in without feeling guilty about it, and impromptu kitchen dancing to the familiar sounds of Jake’s favourite mixtape.

This particular Saturday starts no differently. She awakens to an empty stretch of bed beside her and the smell of fresh coffee and something else she isn't awake enough to identify wafting in from the kitchen. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she slinks out of bed and follows her nose to the kitchen, stretching her arms as she goes.

Rounding the corner, Amy can't help but smile – she’s witnessed the sight of Jake happily flipping pancakes at her stove and dancing to some imaginary tune more times than she can count, but it never fails to make her heart skip a beat. She shuffles across the floor, smile still wide and eyes at half-mast, and wraps her arms around his midsection, burying her head between his shoulder blades and relishing in the warmth radiating from the oven in front of him. She feels more than hears his laugh, looking up when he turns around to face her.

“It's my favourite heat-seeking reptile, emerged from her cavern.” He grins as he shimmies out of his flannel, draping it around her shoulders and pulling her against his chest.

Amy looks up, an eyebrow raised in amusement. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you're always cold. Especially in the morning. It’s a miracle your toes haven't fallen off from frostbite.” He states matter-of-factly, eyebrows drawn together in mock sincerity.

Fighting off a smile, she brings her head back down to rest against him. “Well, maybe if you didn’t leave me alone in bed every Saturday morning, I wouldn't be so cold in the morning. You're like my own personal heat pack.” She mumbles into his collarbone.

“Would you prefer I _don't_ wake up early to make you pancakes and coffee?” He teases, his voice light.

She pulls away once again, eyes narrowing in contemplation. “Okay, you win this one.”

She grins and straightens up to peek around him at the stove, but the lack of a frying pan brings a frown to her face. “Hey, where are the pancakes?”

“Such incredible observation skills. It's no wonder you're tied for best detective in the NYPD.” He quips before turning back to face the oven. “I’m not making pancakes today. I have something much better for you.”

She raises an eyebrow in question. “What could be better than pancakes?”

Instead of a response, Jake’s ever-present smile only grows wider, and he steps aside to open the oven door. Immediately, the smell of warm cinnamon and brown sugar surrounds them, and Amy knows what’s in there before she even sees it.

“You got cinnamon buns from Christie’s!” She exclaims, savouring in the scent of her favourite breakfast.

“Best boyfriend ever, right?” Jake replies, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter. “Plus, I didn't even have to pay for them. I tried, but Lorenzo insisted, since they were for you. He says hi, bee-tee-dubs.”

Amy smiles at that. She’s been going to Christie’s Bakery since she was in college – spent hours reading a book or studying for an exam over a cup of hot chocolate and a scone – and Lorenzo, the very old and very Italian man who owns the place, was one of her favourite people in New York; the kind of warm and inviting person who saw anyone stepping foot in his shop as family. Ever since they relocated to halfway across the city, she hasn’t had many chances to go; she realizes now how much she misses it.

“Anyways, I thought this momentous occasion was worth the drive to Manhattan for these things.” Jake motions to the oven, grinning excitedly, but his expression falters as he appears to take notice of Amy’s confusion.

“Momentous occasion?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing as she wracks her brain for today’s date.

“...I’d say six months of dating is a relatively big deal.” He says, and all at once, Amy freezes.

Eyes widening, she slowly turns to look at the calendar, her cheeks growing warm. Sure enough, in blue marker over the day – _A+J: six months of smooshin’ booties._ She recalls last week very clearly, when Jake had suddenly gasped in the middle of a Serve  & Protect marathon and ran to the calendar to scribble the event in. She remembers pausing the TV and following him, his choice of words drawing a bout of laughter from her before he’d extinguished it with a searing kiss, his smile mirroring hers against her lips.

“I forgot.” She hears herself say quietly, eyebrows drawn together. “I never forget dates. How did I forget?” She’s mumbling to herself now, staring at the blue lettering in concern. Suddenly Jake is behind her, resting his hands on her hips and squeezing gently in reassurance.

“Ames, it's okay. People forget things all the time. It’s human nature.” He says softly, and Amy can hear the smile in his voice.

If it wasn't Jake, she’d be freaking out. If this were eight months ago and it was Teddy standing behind her, trying his best to convince her it’s okay, she would not be convinced. She'd hear the slight pitch change in his voice and interpret it as disappointment, or disdain.

As it is, she’s skill skeptical as she turns around in his arms and frowns. “But this is important. I mean, I do forget things sometimes, nobody’s perfect, but...but this has been in my phone calendar for at least a month, I swear–” She lifts her phone as she speaks, frantically scrolling to find the calendar app as proof, but she’s stopped before she can get to it.

“Amy. Seriously. You’ve been working so much, and I know you haven't been sleeping that great – don't even try to pretend, I sleep next to you every night – you're stressed, and stressed people forget things. Relax, dude.” He says calmly, ducking down to catch her gaze. He gathers her hands in his, and Amy relishes in the steady swoop of his thumb across her knuckles. “It's really, really okay.”

“Okay. Thanks, babe.” Amy smiles gently, leaning forward to plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

“C’mon. Let's go eat cinnamon buns. You need the energy.” He pulls back and grins, his eyes glinting with mirth.

Amy sighs, shaking her head to cover her grin. “Sugar does not give you energy. Sugar makes you crazy for two hours and then you crash and burn. Why do I need the energy?”

Then Jake’s hands are on her shoulders, steering her towards the kitchen table, his voice cheerful. “That, my dear Amelia, is a surprise for later. For now, though – less talky-talk, more snacky-snack.”

“You're weird.” She snorts, sliding into the chair he pulls out for her.

“You wouldn't have me any other way.” He shoots back, setting a plate in front of her and sitting down.

She’s about to retort, but then the smell of the plate in front of her reaches her nose, and she’s left smiling with her mouth full of cinnamon bun, pure adoration for the man seated across the table permeating her gaze.

 

***

 

The rest of the morning was a blur. They’d finished breakfast and cleaned up the kitchen together, pausing midway for a quick dance to _Shake It Off_ – although that was ended abruptly when an elaborate twirl sent a glass or two crashing on the floor.

The remainder of their day didn't consist of much other than Jake forcing her into earplugs when his phone rang so she wouldn't discover his surprise prematurely, and slightly unnecessary hyping up for said surprise. He’d spent the majority of the afternoon darting out the door to “ _finalize plans_ ”, although he never left before ensuring that Amy was settled in with reruns of Jeopardy and a mug of hot chocolate that could probably win an award, if there were such a contest.

Now, Amy sits in the passenger seat of his car, hands folded in her lap as she listens to him warble his way through the oldies station on the radio. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, a giggle escaping her whenever he tries to hit the higher notes and his voice squeaks – she would've never admit it before they were dating, but she’d always thought his inevitable karaoke sessions every time they got in a car together were oddly adorable.

The song ends with Jake’s laughter filling the air around them, and Amy gives him a thumbs up for his performance before readjusting the makeshift blindfold covering her eyes. She thought it was wholly unnecessary and incredibly cheesy, but Jake had insisted before they’d left.

“Are your eyes closed?” His voice comes as the music volume lowers.

“For the fourteenth time, yes, they’re closed. Even if they weren’t, I have a blindfold on.” Amy smiles through the words, amused at Jake’s paranoia.

“Hey, you never know. I tried to surprise Charles on his birthday, and he managed to figure out we were at that pop-up farmer’s market through a blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones blasting showtunes, _and_ those blocker things they make carriage horses wear.” He shoots back, indignant.

“Yeah, but this is Charles we’re talking about. You could lock him in a soundproof, smell-proof, everything-proof portable room and tow it to the freakin’ grocery store, and he’d figure it out before you could even park.”

There’s a moment of silence, and even blindfolded, Amy can picture the contemplation in his expression. “Yeah, you’re right. Anyways, promise you won’t look. This has to be a surprise.”

“You got it.” She grins in his general direction before turning her head back to the passenger seat window, her grin fading into a soft smile when she feels his hand reach across the console to hold hers.

Comfortable silence falls around them, the muted sounds of the Beach Boys filtering through the car speakers, and Amy squeezes Jake’s hand lightly as she notes to herself that she has never felt more at home. Objectively, six months isn’t that much time; to Amy, it somehow feels both short and long simultaneously. Short in the sense that she still gets butterflies when he glances up from across their desks and the corners of his mouth pull up into the small, knowing smile he’s reserved for her eyes only; long in the sense that every touch, every shared look and teasing comment and inside joke feels so achingly familiar, causing a comforting warmth to blossom in her chest like she’s never experienced before she met him.

She realizes, in this moment, that she loves Jake Peralta.

Normally, Amy would be at least a little bit panicked at this revelation. It’s not that she doesn’t want to love him – in fact, it’s the exact opposite – but she can’t help it, an unfortunate (and irritating) side effect of her everyday nervousness. Strangely enough, this time she doesn’t feel apprehensive whatsoever. Maybe she’s just on cloud 9 for the night, or maybe it’s the warm weight of Jake’s hand in hers that’s staving off the impending anxiety. It’s largely the fact that she’s re-evaluating the time Teddy first told her he loved her – four and a half months into the relationship, he’d taken her out to a fancy restaurant, poured her a glass of champagne and spoken the words with complete resoluteness. Amy had said it back, but it had felt like she’d said it more out of obligation than anything else. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel _something_ , but she hadn’t been sure of what that something was, and just replying with _“Cool! Thanks for the champagne,”_ in front of a restaurant full of people would’ve warranted some strange looks.

This is what it should’ve felt like, if she had actually loved Teddy. Reliving the memory in her head, the trepidation that had seized her mind when he’d looked to her for a response was laughable in comparison to the calm certainty she feels for the man sitting next to her now.

For the moment, though, she stores that thought away, because she feels the car pull into a parking spot.

Jake’s fingers disentangle from hers as he reaches across her to unbuckle her seatbelt, kissing her cheek as he does so. Amy grins and bats at his hand, tutting softly.

“I may not be able to see anything, but I’m still fully capable of undoing my own seatbelt, Peralta.”

“Oh, I’m aware, Santiago. I just wanted an excuse to kiss you.” He chirps. She can picture the ear-to-ear smile probably taking up his face about now, and she sticks her tongue out in his direction before opening the door and stepping out.

“Right this way, madam.” Jake says cheerily, looping his arm through hers and leading her off towards their destination. Amy counts the steps in her head, trying to figure out where he might be taking her, and it didn’t take long – he warns her of stairs ahead, and the minute her hand grabs the railing, she knows.

She’s held onto this exact same railing more times than she’s said the words _“You’re under arrest”_ , and that was truly saying something. This place was like her second home, and Jake should’ve known that she’d figure it out.

“We’re at the library.” She beams proudly, her words dissolving into laughter at the choked groan Jake makes next to her.

“Am I just really, really bad at surprising people?” He laments, reaching up to untie Amy’s blindfold.

“No, you just associate with people who are very intense about things. Charles and farmer’s markets, myself and libraries, Gina and designer shoes, et cetera, et cetera.” She smiles up at him, happy to have her vision back.

“Yeah, that checks out.” He says, looking up at the building before them. “Well, surprise! Thanks for putting up with me for the last six months.”

“Try six _years_. You put up with me just as much, so thank you too.” She replies before following suit, taking in the architecture in front of her. Then she takes notice of something else – the time. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion as she turns to speak.

“The library closes at six on Saturdays.”

“It does.”

“It’s nine.”

“It is.”

“We can’t go to the library if the library is closed.” His grin only grows wider at her statement, and now she’s more confused than ever.

“That is correct. However, a little birdie told me that that is not the case...” – he pauses, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card – “...for library VIP members.”

Pure excitement takes over Amy’s features, and she snatches the card out of his hands, unable to control the smile now taking up half of her face. She squints, her excitement morphing to concern upon further inspection; the name on the VIP card is unfamiliar. “Who’s Tom?”

“Tom is Ro– uh, Tom is an acquaintance of mine.” He catches himself before he can finish the first part.

“And he gave you his VIP card? Willingly?” Amy narrows her eyes, the suspiciousness in her expression undercut by the teasing tone of her voice.

“ _No_ , Amy, I obviously used my detective skills to track down a library VIP that I could defeat in battle, challenged him to a duel, and then vanquished him with ease, taking his access card as a prize for my vic–” He cuts off his sentence as Amy whacks the back of his head lightly, his serious expression melting into a smirk. “Yes, willingly. Don’t tell her I told you, but Tom is Rosa’s boyfriend.”

“My lips are sealed. Shall we?”

“We shall.”

They link arms once again, walking up the steps in unison, and she’s sure he can feel her excitement as they step through the door.

The moment they’re inside, Amy stops and whirls to face him, catching him by surprise with a soft, affectionate kiss. His hands flutter momentarily before one finds its place on her hip and the other cradles her face, his thumb stroking the hollow of her cheek as he returns the kiss with just as much tenderness.

“Just for the record…” She pulls away, leaning her forehead against his and opening her eyes. “You never need an excuse to kiss me.”

“Tight.” Jake’s eyes open to meet hers, and she lets out a laugh before it’s muffled by another kiss. The gentle, yet firm movements of his lips on hers make her toes curl in her boots; the sensation is tripled in intensity when she feels him walking her backwards slowly until the exposed brick of the entryway is against her shoulders, his arms against the wall on either side of her.

“Jake.” She clears her throat quietly, pulling herself back.

“Mm?” He mumbles as he breaks from her lips, trailing soft kisses down her jaw.

“We’re still in the foyer.” She smiles, and he comes back up to peck her lips once more, short and sweet, before lacing his fingers with hers and leading her further into the library.

Amy’s not entirely sure how many hours they spend exploring the empty building, their only company each other and the security guard, a kind-looking young woman who happily agreed to leave them be. She can honestly say she’s rarely ever this happy – bouncing back and forth from New Fiction to History to Self-Help and skimming through books that catch her eye, tugging a smiling Jake along behind her to show him all her favourites. In all her past relationships, she’s never had someone so willing to let her take control; no one would've lasted as long as Jake has, listening to her gush about different series and dragging him from one end of the building to the other. It’s this small, almost imperceptible sentiment that makes her mind wander as they sit curled up in bean bag chairs, surrounded by small stacks of books and quiet comfort.

She usually wouldn't be so quick to jump to conclusions about these things. She’s always been a bit reserved when it came to love, trying not to assume someone else’s feelings for fear of being wrong. But in this moment, she can tell, even in the low lights of the library at night, that the look in Jake’s eyes mirrors hers exactly – a look of pure, unadulterated awe at the person opposite him. She can tell that the way his heartbeat speeds up infinitesimally when she smiles up at him is largely out of disbelief that this is his real life – just as is the same with hers, when she feels his fingers tracing mindless patterns across her skin.

Amy had come to the conclusion earlier in the night that she loved Jake Peralta, and their evening together drove that conclusion home, no two ways about it. The pair have worked together, laughed together, _been_ together long enough to be able to read each other like an open book – she knows if she’ll ever let herself waver, let herself assume just a little bit, it will be for him.

She’s pretty sure Jake Peralta loves her right back, and that's something she’ll happily surmise for all their days to come.

**Author's Note:**

> okay more notes!!!
> 
> first order of business: i am so very sorry for not updating my last fic (the apartment fic)??? i was so hyped to write the whole thing then i posted chapter one and IMMEDIATELY hit the biggest wall of writer's block i've ever experienced.....................anyways i think that's slowly coming to an end so i won't make any promises just in case but i am hopefully gonna make some progress on chapter 2 soon!!!
> 
> i remember when i very first got into b99 being #bitter about not getting any footage of their vip library stay and i couldn't find any fics for it so this is a long time coming!!! also i know they don't say "i love you" until like,,, 4 episodes after the swedes but i firmly believe they were both sittin' on that statement for a While before they decided to vocalize it and u can rip that headcanon from my cold dead hands before i'll willingly admit otherwise
> 
> p.s. it is very important that you all know that when jake says "it's a miracle your toes haven't fallen off from frostbite" his expression is exactly the same expression he had when he very solemnly tells captain holt "i'm a storyteller, sir. it's my craft"
> 
> okay thank u for reading!!! come yell at me @chairjockeys on tumblr


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